not like it isn’t my fault, really.
So I’m worried. About a few things.
I’m worried that I’m not the right person to show people Austin. I’ve got about four days left to become a cool Austin person before stee gets here and I’m supposed to be the one to show him how cool this place is. Homeboy doesn’t eat red meat, so the whole Texas Barbecue thing is thrown out the window. Maybe with all of the film things and sxsw parties he’ll never notice that I didn’t show him the town.
I’m worried that Eleanor will stop writing again, as I missed her when she was gone.
After this weekend, I’m not so much worried that there are a series of videotapes called “Girls Gone Wild”, but rather that there are a series of videotapes specifically titled “Mardi Gras College Town Girls Gone Wild.” That’s too specific.
I’m worried that I really like this whole drinking beer & lime/ whiskey sour thing that I started recently.
Why does Cal attack me whenever I do the laundry? He jumps on my back and starts chewing my hair whenever I fold clothes. I tried to get away and he bit my foot. Whenever Eric leaves the house Cal runs around and cries for about ten minutes.
I’m worried that Get Real will never be cancelled.
I’m worried about teaching this class next month. Who put me in charge of teenage girls? How am I going to teach HTML without cursing? Who am I to teach someone how to write? What am I supposed to say when they ask if I have an online journal?
This weekend I had the worst massage ever. The man was creepy. Creepy like lightly-brushing-back-the-hair-on-my-forehead-and-thanking-me-for-letting-him-touch-me creepy. The upside: my butt is really smooth. The downside: So…cold. So very…very cold.
I’m worried about my sister and I wish I heard from her more often.
I’m worried I’ll never have time to take another vacation.
I know I’ll never respond to all of the e-mail I’ve gotten lately, and I’m worried you’ll be upset. Just know that I got your e-mail and I appreciate it. I’m just crazy-busy lately.
I’m worried that this will be the last season of The Sopranos and it’s quickly becoming my favorite show.
I’m worried that this worrying is aging me. Quickly.